Challenging week with FFN and computers in general for me. FFN seemed to not want anyone's stories to be read, please do read Chapter 8 - Perros as the lead in to this chapter, if you haven't already. My computer got hacked and I had to get a new engine computer for my car! Consequently, this chapter is considerably shorter than usual - which may or may not be a good thing. Was looking for some humor and hope you will find it. Christine and Gustave family fluff.

Open Secrets

"He said he still loves you," Gustave announces as he picks up a piece of saltwater taffy from the crystal dish on the coffee table, before plopping down on the chaise in his mother's dressing room.

"And how did that subject come up when you were supposed to be discussing a new attraction at the park," Christine responds, brushing her hair, tangled from the surprise visit by Erik. His leave taking preceding the arrival of his son by a good fifteen minutes, allowing her time to straighten the room, replace her undergarments and cover herself with a lavender flannel dressing gown to await the arrival of the company seamstress. Rummaging through the pins and combs covering the top of the vanity, her brow furrows.

"We were talking about Perros and the boat and that sort of thing,"

"So out of the blue he tells you he still loves me?"

"Not exactly – we were talking about how he was supposed to go into the Navy, but stayed behind."

"Because of me." Interrupting her search, she stops to speak directly to him.

"Uncle Phillippe had to pull some strings, he said, so he could keep on being a vicomte because he did not do his military service," he continues. "I said he must have loved you very much and he said he still did."

"I told him to leave…to do his service."

"But…"

Sighing deeply, she shifts her position on the bench, resting the silver-backed brush on her lap. Without any combs or pin, her hair cascades over her shoulders catching the light to pick up rich red highlights. "We became engaged based on his reporting for duty and how I felt upon his return. I called it a secret engagement, but it was really a make-believe engagement. I was not certain I wanted to marry him or anyone for that matter."

Turning back to face the mirror, she puts the brush down and, with a silver comb, begins parting her hair, sectioning and pinning it into a chignon at the nape of her neck. "I wanted to sing – with Erik's lessons my voice was becoming what I dreamed it could be and with his support, I was performing I thought the time apart would help me make my decision."

"What about Papa? I still do not understand."

"What do you not understand?" Her aquamarine eyes meet his of hazel in the mirror.

"How you could love Papa, but still promise to marry Raoul."

"That was the problem, I loved your Papa – more than I even understood. He was a part of me." Abandoning the hairdressing, she focuses on the face of her son, wanting to explain the complex emotions she was experiencing during that time in her life. So young and unsure.

Raoul was the choice most of the girls in the troupe would have chosen, no question. Handsome, a noble, no less, wealthy, and seemingly madly in love with her. None of them was aware of Erik…of her bond to the Opera Ghost. Madame Giry and Meg may have suspected some goings on, but she confided nothing to them – only Raoul knew. "We spent much time together, with my lessons, but also talking – he was my best friend – I could talk to him about anything. There were no times happier in my life than when I was with your father, but he thought he was too ugly for me to care for him."

"Was he?"

"Maybe. Then. Raoul said if Erik had the face even of a normal homely man, I would choose him without a second thought." A cynical laugh escapes her lips. "Petty, I know. I was young and inexperienced. Beauty, physical beauty was important to me. Erik knew this – if anyone knew how beauty affected others, it was he."

"What happened?"

"Erik was worried I would commit to Raoul and only asked me to tell him if I chose him."

"You did not tell him?"

She shakes her head. "No, because there was nothing to tell – not really."

"Maman! You told Raoul you would marry him, but did not mean it. Then you told Papa you would not choose Raoul without telling him." Gustave falls back on the chaise, laughing. "You lied to both of them."

Blood rushes to her face, beads of perspiration forming around her hair line. Could all the anger and threats and fear been avoided had she been honest to both men? All the years of hurt and anger, her doing. Gustave put into words what she consistently pushed to the back of her mind when thinking of the past.

"I did not lie – I told Raoul our engagement was not real. If it was not real, then there was no reason to tell Erik."

"You are blushing – you only blush when you are fibbing."

"The room is warm." Dropping her eyes, their connection broken, she returns to dressing her hair.

"In the book, Christine tells Raoul not to ask such questions – also that she would not marry him – or anyone."

"There is truth to that, as I just told you," she says. "There was a lot of truth in the book."

"I do not think Raoul being here is a good idea."

"Why?"

"None of us wants him here – not really," Gustave mutters. "I do not trust him."

"You did not enjoy your time together?" Hairdo in place, she begins poking through the drawers of her jewelry box.

"We actually had an enjoyable meeting – he is likable enough," the boy admits. "He draws – did you know that?"

"No – he never mentioned a love of drawing – I only know he loved the sea."

"Papa liked my drawing."

"Yes, I know, he brought it to show me, he wants to have it framed to hang in the house."

"He was here?"

"Yes, he only stayed long enough to show me the drawing." Catching her face in the mirror, seeing her color heighten. The ferreting about through her jewels intensifies.

Gustave examines his mother's face and her seeming search for a lost item. Chuckling, he shakes his head, shifting his eyes to the dressing screen. "Did you say you were waiting for Jeannette?"

"No, I do not recall saying so, but that is the case." She pushes her bench back to check the floor.

"Usually you are already wearing the dress being altered." Shifting his position on the chaise, he lets out a small yelp, running his hand under his hip. Sitting up, he retrieves the sapphire earring offending his rump. Grinning, he cocks his head toward the chiffon gown. "It is really beautiful."

"I was interrupted by your father, as I mentioned," she says, her response clipped. "We spent quite a bit of time talking about Perros."

"Here on the chaise?"

"I believe we may have been sitting on the chaise, why?"

"Is this what you are looking for?" he asks, holding up the gemstone.

"As a matter of fact, it is," she responds, her lips pressed into a straight line, she holds out her hand.

Leaping to his feet, Gustave delivers the earring to her, dropping it into her palm.

"Thank you." Finding the mate on the dressing table, she puts them on. "What do you think?"

"The earrings? Stunning. They go well with the dress if that is your plan."

"It is."

"Does Papa know about the boat – what I was using as a model?"

"Yes, thus our discussion."

"What did he say?"

"That he would prefer we not hang it in such a well-used place as the conservatory," she laughs.

"I want to give it to Raoul," Gustave replies. "Framed…all of that…but I do not want it in our house and I doubt you or Papa wants it there either.

"No, you are correct…and I think he would appreciate the gift," she says. "More to the point – what sort of plan did you make with him about Phantasma?"

"We are going to try to find an old schooner to convert into a pirate ship – or at least as a framework – with other buildings around it to fill out the attraction."

"What about the sailboat rides."

"Only after we finish the Pirate ship."

"You cut a mean deal, as your father would say."

"I hope he gets bored with something that will actually make some money and moves on."

"Gustave – he may not have been the best father – I know that – but that was as much my fault as his."

"Whatever the reason, Maman, I do not want him in my life and I doubt Papa does either," Gustave says, returning to his seat. "Do you?"

Christine shakes her head. Their lives were moving along smoothly, the children were a challenge, as always, but happily so. The business with the book was unsettling, but everyone was trying to make the best of things – on a practical level – there was enough distance between New York and Paris that no connections were made to a masked fictional character and a masked amusement park entrepreneur. Erik was even writing an opera based on the story. There were enough differences between the author's interpretation and the reality for him to insert his own impressions both story-wise and musically.

A light knock on the door interrupts their conversation.

"Who is it?" Christine asks.

"Jeanette, Mrs. Christine."

"Open the door for Jeanette," she says. "I think your father went to see the carpenter about framing your drawing. You might want to tell him what we discussed – about its disposition."

Gustave gets up, grabs a few more pieces of candy and walks to the door. "Hello, Jeannette," he says to the tiny woman, her graying hair piled into a bun on top of her head, a pin cushion strapped to her wrist.

"Master Gustave," she says, walking past him, looking Christine up and down before noticing the dress hanging on the dressing screen. The cock of her head a question.

"Mr. Y interrupted me as I was planning to don the costume," Christine mutters, casting a look at her son. "He wanted to show me a sketch Gustave made. He is leaving now to deal with the framing."

"Yes." Gustave grins at her, before popping a candy into his mouth. "I was just going to visit Adolph to see if Papa is there."

"Actually, he is in wardrobe, apparently he split a seam in his trousers – something about dropping the sketch he was carrying and bending over too quickly," Jeanette says, repressing the smile rounding her plump cheeks. "You are more likely to find him there than in carpentry."

"Well, then, thank you for the information – best be off before he moves on again," Christine says, waving Gustave off before moving behind the dressing screen. "Now, Jeanette, I hope you do not mind waiting a moment while I put the dress on."

"No, Missus," she says, exchanging a smile with Gustave as he exits. "Take your time."